A Matter of Taste
by puerta de las estrellas
Summary: John and Teyla are forced in to slave labor. Set in late Season 3. JT romance/fluff/smut
1. Preface

**Rating:** M

**Setting:** Some time in late Season 3. Which I guess makes this an alternate timeline. Because I don't like Kanaan. Torren is fine... but Kanaan really puts a cramp in my style.

**Warnings:** Very Mature. Lots of fluffiness. And smut. It's my thing.

**Notes:** I have finished writing the entire story. The Preface and Chapters 1 and 2 will go up first, followed by a couple of chapters every day after. Ten Chapters.

I write these stories because I'm such a huge John/Teyla-shipper and writing about them makes me happy. If they make someone else happy, then that's the cherry on top! And this story is dedicated to Sagey. :) Thanks for the advice & support.

Preface

Why is it always an ambush? Always a freaking ambush? _thought John. _Because they can't get to us in a fair fight,_ he answered himself with irritation. He looked over to see his three other teammates kneeling in the dirt, hands tied behind their backs, guns held to their necks as well. _Well, we've been in worse. We'll just do what we do.

_And they did. Granted, your average Genai plot wasn't always so brilliantly hatched, and their captors were easy to get the drop on— now the Genai were the ones with hands tied behind their backs, locked in a room, but John had to give them credit for trying. The team had been brought to some decrepit Traveler ship the Genai had managed to steal, kidnapping Rodney to fix the hyperdrive. They'd managed to take the entire team, which the Genai seemed to think was quite a bonus_. I guess that was their first mistake,_ thought John. _

_Thing is, Rodney had his own not-so-brilliant moments, and the situation they now found themselves in wasn't a huge improvement over being Genai prisoners. Rodney had fixed the hyperdrive. Oh, he'd fixed it. It was just a little too fixed. From what John understood of Rodney's verbose explanations, he'd managed to make the ship go exponentially faster, without being able to turn the hyperdrive off. Oh, and it would soon overload, exploding and obliterating the ship and anyone on it._

_They headed to two of the tiny shuttles in the bay, each made for two passengers. John and Teyla jumped in one, Rodney and Ronan in the other, and they discussed their escape via the shuttles' radios. They'd located one inhabitable planet nearby, although it was Stargate-less, which John felt was a major defect in this plan, but there wasn't really an alternative. They were just beginning to brace for take off in the shuttles when John heard Rodney nearly scream over the radio. _

"_JOHN! I THINK I KNOW HOW TO FIX IT! Looking at the shuttle controls just made me realize something and I might have figured it out! I gotta get back up to the control room and I think I can slow this thing down!" Rodney screeched. _

_"All right, let's go!" yelled John, turning to leave the shuttle. _

"_Thing is," said Rodney, "I'm not completely, completely sure I can completely fix it."_

"_That's a lot of completely's, Rodney," yelled John. "Can you fix it or not?" _

"_It's a 70/30 chance. 70 I blow it up, 30 I don't. You guys gotta get out of here, and I'll stay behind. I'll fix it and then turn back around to pick you up." Rodney's voice was cracking, and John knew this uncharacteristic heroism was a big stretch for him. Of course John also knew there was no way Ronan was going to let Rodney stay on the ship alone with the Genai, imprisoned though they were._

"_Fine," growled John. "Get up there and fix it. Teyla and I will head down to the planet, and you come back for us."_

"_Here's the thing, John," Rodney puffed into the radio as he ran to the control room. "When I say I can fix it, I mean I can get it to stop accelerating and thus exploding. But I have no idea how to stop it."_

"_Well, what good is that going to do us, then?" John shouted back._

"_Hopefully I can make it slow down, then get it headed in the direction of Atlantis, which should take us a couple of days to reach. Maybe by the time we get there, I can figure out how to get it to stop," said Rodney._

_John headed to the rear exit of the shuttle. "Then we'll just stay with you to help," he radioed back._

"_Didn't you hear the part about us probably EXPLODING?" screeched Rodney. "You have to get out of here!"_

"_He's right, John." Teyla reached out to stop him from opening the shuttle door. "Atlantis cannot afford to lose all of us at once."_

_John hesitated. He hated splitting up the team, but he knew Teyla was right. "Fine," grumbled John, sitting down at the controls and readying the shuttle for flight._

"_One more thing, John," radioed the now panting Rodney, and John knew that bad news was following. "Since you're exiting the ship traveling at hyperspace, you might have a bit of a rough go of it."_

"_Great. Any more good news, Rodney?" John growled. The shuttle was lifting off the floor of the hangar and he headed toward the open hatch._

"_If I get this thing fixed, we'll be back for you in the Daedalus. It should take us a couple days to get there and a couple of days back." The radio signal started to weaken, and through the static, John and Teyla heard Rodney shout, "I promise we'll be back for you in five days. Five days, John!"_

_A boot prod in the face wasn't John's favorite way to wake up, but he realized that waking up was a pretty good thing after that rough landing. _

"_Looks to me like you're both viable workers," said the voice belonging to the boot. "That makes it my lucky day. I'm Mirfa and you're going to have the pleasure of working on my grain farm." A bald, hulking man grinned down at John, pointing John's own P90 at him. _

_John looked around to see Teyla in the same situation—on the floor of the crumpled shuttle, gun pointed at her head. He could see she wasn't in any pain and tried to grin across at her. "At least there's food."_

_After they'd been on the planet for a few hours, John and Teyla had pretty much assessed their situation: Desert planet. Scorching heat. No Stargate. They were now forced into labor on what amounted to a slave plantation that grew just one crop, a grain with some unpronounceable name. "It's corn," said John sullenly. "It's just plain old corn."_


	2. Chapter 1

_Wonderful. More fried sweet corn for dinner._ Teyla slammed the spoon onto the metal plate, but it did nothing to relieve her irritation, which actually had nothing to do with the corn. She turned to watch John take another gulp of the talik drink. _I cannot believe he is doing something so selfish. _She clenched her teeth as she turned away from him to watch those around them becoming more raucous and lewd.

_Why would he even drink this?_ _Does he not know that it could put us in danger?_ _This is not some cultural exchange mission—we are prisoners!_ His thoughtlessness left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she twisted away from him, standing up to cross to the well.

"I am going to fill my water cup," she snapped at John and walked away, not trying to keep a stomp from her gait.

_Wow. She's in a sour mood, _John thoughtas he toyed with the cup in his hand, glancing up at Mirfa across the rows of table, knowing Mirfa was watching him like a hawk. John turned away to see the couple across from him finally start to really go for it, playing tonsil hockey and pawing at each other. _Maybe just she's just pissed that all we've had to eat for two days is corn._

As Teyla stalked off to the water jug, she kept her disgusted eyes from the pairs of other slaves rubbing against each other and openly fondling each other. Teyla had known tonight was to be some kind of weekly fertility festival, and from the sound of it, knew the celebration would include ribald entertainment, but she had not counted on the talik drink. It had been brought out early in the evening, but was being served to only the men, although as far as Teyla could tell, the women were willingly accepting the advances of the talik-inflamed men.

She had seen plenty of aphrodisiacal drinks in her travels—it seemed many worlds had their own version of a "love potion" that was served at fertility rites or festivals. What she had not expected was for John to drink it! He clearly knew what drinking the talik entailed and was already half way done with his cup. Teyla was so incensed with him it turned her stomach.

It had not taken long to figure out what the odorless green juice was that the guards had been begun handing out to the men half way through the evening meal. As the cups of talik slowly made their way down the rows and rows of tables, the men at first acted a little drunk, almost loopy. But soon their silliness turned into lewd gestures and lascivious stares and Teyla had realized that this was one of "those" fertility festivals. At first it had not really bothered her; she and John had kept to themselves during their time on the planet, and what the rest of the slaves did during the evening's festivities did not really concern her.

But when she had seen John take the cup of talik offered him and begin to sip it, Teyla was completely stunned. _Why would he do this?_ _Why would he drink this ridiculous aphrodisiac in a situation like the one they found themselves?_ They had been slave laborers on this Stargate-less planet for two days, and although they were for the moment safe and expecting rescue in three days' time, this was no time to be letting down their guard. They needed to be ready to escape at a moment's notice, or whenever the team came for them in the Daedalus. She was furious with John for putting them in this situation.

She stalked back over to sit next to John; not because she particularly wanted to sit with him, but because she certainly was not going to sit with anyone else. When she saw that he had actually topped off the entire cup of talik, she came close to punching him in the face.

At that moment of pure rage, she realized just why she was so angry with him. It was not only because he was putting them in danger by allowing himself to become unalert; it was because what his drinking of the talik implied. By watching the men around them, Teyla knew that this was no mild blend of inhibition-loosening juice. This was an extremely strong stimulant that appeared to leave no drinker unaffected.

_So what does that mean for me? Does he assume I am just going to "help" him with his little problem? That because I am his friend and teammate that I am just supposed to be there for him in his "hour of need" and help him work off this ridiculous lustful phase?_

Teyla kicked her boot into the dust under the table and bit her lip. He should not use her like this! The thought of him assuming he could have whatever he wanted from her was offensive in the extreme—well, perhaps not totally offensive. But that was a dark secret that she had diligently pushed down for years. _Of course I want him to have his way with me. I always have. But not like this. _Not because he had to, because some ridiculous drink had made him lose control of himself.

The idea of him needing her help him to resolve his impending "issue" filled her with heat again, but a different kind this time—a slow tightening in her abdominals, a sudden intake of breath. It made her even angrier. _Clearly he never thought of me that way until he could not help it, and I am the only warm-blooded female in reaching distance that could help him satisfy the urgings brought about by—_

Except... she was _not_ the only female in reaching distance, she suddenly realized. What if she was not his intended "helper"? The gulp of water she had just thrown back sank to the bottom of her stomach like a stone and she leaned forward to rest her forehead on her hand. Did he intend to work off this, this... _thrill_ with someone else? Of course there were other willing women—she had seen them watching him in the fields and at meal times. John was pleasant to look upon, especially since he had succumbed to the scorching climate of the planet and ripped his uniform trousers into knee-length shorts and worked in his military issue t-shirt from which he had also ripped the sleeves. They had just the clothes on their backs that became filthy after a day's work in the fields, and since they scrubbed and rinsed them out every night, their uniforms were already threadbare and worn with washing. John's thinning t-shirt just kept stretching tighter across his muscled chest, and Teyla was well aware of how often other women (and a few men) had followed him with appreciative eyes, but it had never worried her, since in similar captive situations, they had always stuck together, insulating themselves from other prisoners.

But plenty of those women would now be thrilled to help John out with his "predicament." _Is that his intention? To use one of them as his release? _The thought sickened Teyla and she felt despondent. Resenting John for wanting to use her was one thing, but her heart revolted at the idea of him using another woman, however meaningless to him, to satisfy the urges the talik drink would bring on. Teyla had always wanted John for herself, always craved his love and affection. But he had never seemed to have the time or inclination to make something of what she felt was a special bond between them.

John was watching Teyla carefully. His experience with her let him know that whatever was ruminating in that brain of hers would eventually work its way to the surface, most likely in an explosive argument. Those heated exchanges didn't actually bother him—in a way, he relished them, since it was the only time he allowed himself to demonstrate any sort of passion in their interactions. _I do have quite a taste for a good yelling match with Teyla._

But his thoughts turned to the darkening evening around them and the changing mood of the festival. Couples were becoming more and more bold, and he was pretty sure that ten feet away from them, the heavy-set guy with the unibrow and the frowsy middle aged woman were doing the nasty under her work-stained skirts. He didn't really want Teyla in this kind of environment, especially since there were several fellow slaves who hadn't hooked up with a "talik mate," and he was infuriated by the faux-casual, inquiring glances they kept directing Teyla's way.

In their time on the farm, John had tried to make it clear to anyone who cared to notice that the two of them were a team—and let them assume whatever else they wanted from that. They worked together closely in the fields, and ate every meal together. As much as he sympathized with Teyla in the scorching heat, it had made his own composure difficult to maintain when on the first day of field work, Teyla had torn her t-shirt into a midsection-bearing tank top. Her military-issue t-shirt was dark enough to mostly hide that she wasn't wearing a bra, for which he was grateful. _Why doesn't she wear a bra?_ he wondered for what must have been the hundredth time since he'd known her. _I guess Athosian women don't_. She had also torn her uniform pants into shorts that hit slightly above mid-thigh. He couldn't blame her, as he had been the first to alter his uniform earlier that morning, but Teyla's new work clothes were fairly revealing and had outlined just the swells and curves he'd studiously avoided ogling in the last three or so years. Of course the other male workers had no such compunction, and hadn't been discreet at all in their leers of admiration at lunch hours and during the strolls from the dusty fields at the end of a hot day's work. John had reached new levels of skill in giving what he thought of as the "_back off, scumbag_" glare, but he worried that it wasn't enough tonight, when the wardens had a fairly thin veneer of control over of their inmates, particularly the male laborers.

When yet another particularly disgusting man had given Teyla an eyebrow-waggling, lewd expression of invitation (_how does she not see these things? Or does she just ignore them?_), John decided it was time to vacate. It was late enough that their leaving wouldn't seem suspicious to the slave herders, especially if they left simultaneously, just like all the other couples staggering away together, pawing at each other and snickering.


	3. Chapter 2

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Yes, please." Teyla answered crisply. She seemed more subdued now, and John wondered if she'd gotten over her rotten mood.

The truth was, Teyla had made up her mind. As frustrated and angry with John as she was for drinking the talik, there was no way she was going to let him stumble off into the night in the arms of some other woman. Her heart could not endure the idea of pacing her own quarters through the night, imagining him off doing Ancestors-knew-what with some eager, vulgar tramp. She would take John back to her tiny room and let him work off his talik-inebriation with her. Of course, she would serve up a generous helping of guilt in the morning, allowing him to think that she had only been rescuing him from an awkward entanglement with another slave and other unsavory results of spending the night with some seedy flirt.

They stood and walked toward the slave-laborers' living quarters on the other side of the compound. Although they weren't draped all over each other as most couples were, John walked closely enough to her so that those watching would have no doubt as to what Teyla's sleeping arrangements would probably be. He sneaked a glance back as they left the eating area, and spotted more than few disappointed male faces and even a few angry mutters from those who had clearly been biding their time, waiting to see how the pairings of the night would pan out.

John and Teyla passed the long rows of benches, some still full of necking couples, some of the tables already being used by those who didn't seem able to wait to get back to a room to participate in the night's festivities.

Now that they passed the torch-lit eating area into the brightly moonlit night, they could make out the rows of living quarters. The men's quarters were situated on one side of a high mud brick wall, along which grew a row of shade trees. The women's quarters were on the other side of the row of shade trees, behind another wall. The sleeping quarters were partitioned off, forming three-sided rooms with a burlap-type curtain covering the front of the sleeping space.

At this point on their stroll away from the eating area at the end of a typical work day, John would veer off toward the men's side of the compound. Teyla was ready for this. She had made her plan and resolved to follow through with it, as much as her heart revolted at the idea of making love to John in his state—it was not really him, and she felt bitter that the one thing she had longed for years was now going to happen in such a sullied, debased way. But she felt even more dismayed by the alternative, and lifted her chin in determination. She swerved closer to John and slipped an arm around his waist, turning him in the direction of her sleeping quarters.

John's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "Unprecedented" wasn't a strong enough word to describe this, but he certainly wasn't going to start off with a complaint. He'd known for years that if ever Teyla crooked her finger at him, he'd come running, but in honesty, he never believed it would happen. His mind raced for a reason for Teyla's unfathomable behavior, but the only explanation he could fumble toward was that she didn't want to walk to her quarters by herself with the mood in the camp as it was and wanted others to think she was not without a "talik companion." He tried to take her actions with a grain of salt and walked along with her silently.

Teyla slid in closer to John and ran her hand up from his waist, feeling the lean muscle of his torso, then back down to the top edge of the waistband of his pants. _How much clearer do I have to make this?_ she wondered. She had already been impressed by John's restraint despite the talik urges he must be feeling, but she had chalked it up to his military control. She had assumed he would already be running his hands all over her, now that she had made it clear he was welcome in her room.

At the sensation of Teyla's hand running up and down his side, John thought,_ What the...? Is Teyla coming on to me?_ How could he interpret this any other way? He knew she hadn't drunk the talik, so he was dumbfounded by her unspoken invitation. But he continued to allow her to lead him toward her quarters. When they'd first arrived at the farm, she had managed to finagle and scheme her way into a room at the very end of the barracks away from the other slaves, with a few unoccupied rooms between her and the rest of the slaves, so she could have some privacy. In the moonlight, John could see they'd reached Teyla's quarters, and they paused in front of the rough curtain covering the cell. She turned to face him, her arm around his back, pulling him closer and staring up at him expectantly.

_Why is he not, well, "jumping me," as my Atlantis friends would say? How much more of a hint does he need?_ Surely the talik was in full effect now, and he should be shoving her up against side of the building and succumbing to the talik lust. Instead he was looking down at her in the moonlight, an unreadable expression on his face; although she thought she detected a hint of surprise there. That made her blood boil even more. _So he is surprised that I am the one that is offering to be his talik mate? That meant he was expecting to find another one! _The idea made her both furious and determined in equal measure. She shifted around in the dust at their feet, turning him to face the opposite way, and shoved him up against the outer wall of the barracks.

Of course a part of Teyla was excited. She had always wanted this... always wanted to make love to John, to physically express the profound well of emotion she carried for him. But a deeper level of her was cringing in pain. _This is not how I want him. I want him to want me for who I am, for my person, for what I mean to him. Not because of some cursed love juice. _But she swallowed her sorrow and instead brought her considerable force of seduction to bear on the man that she had always desired. As soon as his back hit the wall, she pressed the length of her body against his own, thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis, stomach to stomach, breasts to chest, and lifted her face up to gaze at him fiercely. She made sure her intent was clear on her face... she was going to have him, take him tonight, and there was little he could do to change that.

John was speechless, dumbfounded, awe-struck, shocked, appalled... he tried to come up with a few more adjectives to distract himself from the feel of the bare warm flesh of Teyla's thigh against his leg. He'd never been more confused... hadn't she just spent the evening irritated with him? Why the sudden change? And not just a change from earlier this evening... sudden as in _ever_. Never in the last few years had she shown this level of physical interest in him. Sure, there'd been the gentle flirting between them, the brushing against each other that set his heart racing, the laughing over the off-color jokes she told him she'd heard around the city. But he'd always known the flirting was not meant for him. Not him, John Sheppard. He was just her friend, her close teammate, and hers was a friendly affection that would have spilled out to whatever close male friend had been on hand. He knew he was not the kind of man that made Teyla Emmagan light up inside.

Now he was having a hard time keeping up with this sudden reversal. But Teyla's expression left no doubt as to whether she was serious about this... she was _quite_ serious about this. Whatever "this" was. Her belly pressed so tightly against his already growing erection—_what! It's not like I could help it! She was running her hands all over me. I'm only human!—_her arm was around his back, nails digging into his shoulder blade. The feel of her warm breath washed over his lips that were parted in surprise... he wasn't going to stand there like a dimwit and let this opportunity go.

Please Review! It makes me smile. :)


	4. Chapter 3

**Rating: M** for sexual situations.

_F__inally. I thought I was going to have to throw him on the ground_, thought Teyla, when she saw the mood shift in John's eyes. His formerly inscrutable expression had turned into one of desire, an expression of arousal and eagerness. It made Teyla's pulse race—it was the look she had always longed to provoke in him—the look that said he wanted her body, not just an "I've got your back, you've got mine" need, but a sexual, hopeful desire for her. She pushed back the sadness in her throat at the fact that his reaction was merely chemical and tried to enjoy the moment for what it was. John was finally reaching for her with both hands, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing her body even closer to his own.

Teyla removed her arm from around John's waist and slid it up the side of his arm across his bicep, placed her hand on his chest, and looked up at him, waiting. _Now that he has finally responded, he must to take the lead—after all, this is _his_ little talik party, _she thought bitterly.

John leaned down and kissed her gently, sliding his mouth from the corner of hers to cover both of her lips with his own. He took his time, gently pressing his lips against her mouth—this was the kiss he'd been dreaming of for years, and he wasn't going to let being on some slave-farm planet with a stupid fertility party rush him. He nudged slightly against her mouth again, not quite even asking for entrance, just letting her know where he was headed. He gently pushed his lips into her soft ones again, and Teyla's mouth opened involuntarily to let out a gasp, and slowly he slid his upper lip inside her mouth, trapping her lower lip in his own mouth. As he held her against him, he used his hands to rub up and down the sides of her ribs as she had done to him, but with a soft, caressingly slow motion.

Teyla's head was spinning. _What is he doing?_ This is not the talik-induced behavior she had observed in the other slaves. The slaves' wanton rutting had shown a complete lack of control or attention—they had basically been screwing each other mindlessly. Why was he kissing her as though he had all the time in the world and caressing her like they were going to make love? He should be jumping down her throat to release his uncontrollable sexual excitement.

_I will not allow this_, she thought. It was not fair for him to treat her like this—to fulfill some sick fantasy that he was her noble lover, trying to make himself not feel guilty for partaking in the talik and then using her. Teyla pulled back from the kiss and placed both hands on his chest to roughly thrust him behind to the curtain into her room, but before she did she thought she glimpsed an expression of surprise—_or is that disappointment?_—on his face. But she no longer cared. She wanted this over as quickly as possible, so John could feel guilty and skulk back to his own quarters. The burlap curtain swung closed behind him, and Teyla backed herself against the wall, pulling John into her forcefully. She resumed their kiss, this time savagely pressing her mouth to his while raking her nails down his back. She tried to focus on the fact that her body was genuinely responding to John, a heated flush creeping up her neck, her own deep breaths making her breasts heave against his lean chest.

She slid her hands down his back to his buttocks, and pulled his hips into hers. The ridge in his pants was chiseled from rock, and she ground her own hip into it, forcing a groan from his lips.

"Teyla, what—" John began to gasp out, but Teyla didn't let him finish. She thrust her mouth against his, forcing her tongue between his teeth and using her hands behind his neck to pull him in even closer. John seemed to hesitate momentarily, but finally lifted his hands and ran them up and down her upper arms, slowly stroking her soft skin. He pulled back slightly from the onslaught of her mouth and began to gently kiss his way up her cheek until he reached her ear, then again slowly kissed his way down her neck, taking time to open his mouth slightly and savor the sweet taste of her cheek and neck, all while grazing his fingertips ever so slowly up and down, up and down her arms.

Teyla could bear it no longer. A sob mixed with a cry of frustration escaped her lips and she pushed John away from her, snapping her elbows straight to force him arms length from where she leaned against the mud wall of her quarters.

"_I cannot do this!"_ she wailed aloud, then dropped her head into her hands, tears filtering through her fingers. "It is not really you!"

Once again, John found himself thinking back to those dumbfounded adjectives. _What the hell has gotten into her?_ First she had been so irritated by him she could hardly sit still; then she had seemed despondent and resigned; next he knew she was jumping him and dragging him into her room, kissing him so hard he'd lost his breath. His head was spinning and he tried to focus on slowing his pulse and clamping a lid down on the overwhelming rush of arousal she had sent sizzling through his body.

"Teyla, what is going on?" Part of him wanted to shake her, but even more, her distraught tears made him want to reach out and pull her into his arms. But he did neither since he was at a total loss as to how to respond to her mercurial behavior. He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. "Teyla, I'm sorry about whatever it was that I did that frustrated you earlier, but you have to know—"

He was cut off by a nearly indecipherable rush of words from between Teyla's hands, still pressed over her face.

"I cannot continue—I am sorry I even started, but I felt as though—but if you had not drunk the talik in the first place I would not have—perhaps I should—or you should just—"

John was trying his hardest to pick out her words and understand what the hell she was talking about, when comprehension began to glimmer. He cautiously reached out and gripped her arm to arrest her babbling.

"Teyla, I did not have any of that talik drink," he said slowly and distinctly, trying to cut through her rush of words.

Her head snapped up angrily and he saw her tear-stained face, defiant and furious. "I saw you, John! Do not insult me with denial! I saw you drink it along with everyone else!" she shouted at him.

"Teyla, what you _thought_ you saw was me drinking the talik." He tried to keep his voice level, and was beginning to understand more and more this roller coaster of a night. Teyla stared up at him in disbelief.

"I was pretending to drink the talik, Teyla. After we finished work today, when they gave us a chance to clean up, before the men were allowed to go to the meal, Mirfa told us that all men were required to drink the talik. It's some sort of ensuring-the-survival-of-the-race ritual crap. Mirfa said that whoever didn't drink it would be held down and have it forced down his throat. I was faking those sips... every time I got a chance, I spilled some under the table. Eventually I spilled the whole cup under there. I never drank any of it."

The anger began to slide from Teyla's face, but was quickly replaced by confusion. "But you—I mean—" Teyla looked down pointedly between them to John's clearly jutting arousal.

_Aw, geez._ A flush of embarrassment crept into his cheeks."Teyla, I'm always like this around you. I don't need any damn talik. You always make me feel this way, whether you're grinding up against me or on the other side of the room," John said in a low, tight voice.

He tensely waited for her response, as she had covered her face again to wipe at her tears. Finally she lifted her eyes to his, and John's pulse began to pick back up, because in her face he saw what he'd always longed to: openness. Acceptance. Eagerness. Pleasure. Hope.

The flavor of the air in the tiny room had changed and John stood simply reveling in the look on Teyla's face, even though leftover drops of moisture were still sliding their way down tracks left by her tears.

John narrowed his eyes as he began to mentally review the events of the last half hour. His heart had already started to hammer when he read the emotions on Teyla's face, and it made him a little bolder than usual.

"Wait a minute," John said suspiciously, hazarding a small step closer to Teyla, his hand still on her arm. "If you thought I drank the talik, why were _you_ the one coming on to _me_?"

It was Teyla's turn for a flush of embarrassment to climb her cheeks. "I knew you needed some kind of release if you drank the entire talik cup," she said defensively.

"Then why didn't you just keep going at it and have sex with me?" John shot back.

"I stopped because the idea that it was not truly you that desired me was too painful to bear," she whispered, eyes cast down again. "And I brought you here in the first place because I was afraid you were going to go find satisfaction with someone else."

"Teyla, I don't want to find 'satisfaction' with anyone else." John said firmly.

"Why not?" she questioned, lifting her face to his. She was forcing him to say the unspoken, but she needed to hear his words, wanted him to relieve the hunger of years.

John hesitated, but finally leaned in until his mouth was right at her ear, his voice a low murmur. "I want only you, Teyla."

Teyla immediately turned to press her smooth cheek into his rough one, closing her eyes, heart too full to do anything but push closer to the man who had finally acknowledged his desire for her.

John was silent for a moment, allowing a burst of triumph to course through his veins at the feel of her cheek pressed against his. "And why didn't you want me to pair off with someone else?" he whispered into the ear pressed against his mouth. He too wanted her to say it aloud, to assuage his own hunger for her to acknowledge what was between them.

"Because I want you for myself only, John," she breathed in his ear.


	5. Chapter 4

John felt his heart pounding in his chest—did she really say those words? The words he'd always wanted to hear? The ones he'd assumed would always be for some other man? He was emboldened enough to slide his hand down from her arm to her waist, pulling her body closer.

"Do you really mean that, Teyla?"

"I have always meant it, John." Teyla looked up at him. "I just did not think you cared to hear it." The flush that crept up her neck was no longer simply a physical reaction to his proximity; it was heated by the thumping of her heart and the fluttering in her stomach at the idea of the emotions they had just confessed to each other.

"What do you mean, 'didn't care to hear it'?" He was indignant.

"You have never given any sign that you felt any way for me other than as a teammate or friend," she insisted. She locked eyes with him, daring him to deny it.

John nearly rolled his eyes, but moved his other hand to her waist instead. "I didn't make a move because I thought you weren't interested in me," he said tightly. "And for lots of other reasons..." he left the words hanging in the air, unwilling at the moment to venture into thorny conversations about first moves, chain of command, respective lovers, and more.

"I know, John." Teyla said simply. She moved her body closer to his, placing her arms around his shoulders and her hands on the back of his neck. "But the words are now said, so what does it matter?" She looked up at him pleadingly, hopefully, intentfully.

That look was all he needed. The smile started in the creases at the corners of his eyes and worked its way across his mouth until he was grinning broadly at her.

"So now that it's on the table, I can just let it all out?" He grinned.

"I would be disappointed if you did not." A small smile softened her mouth and she trailed her fingers down his neck and across the top of his shoulders.

"All right." His deep voice rumbled in the tiny room. "Here's some food for thought."

He moved her to the opposite side of the room with him, walking backwards, pulling her with him. He leaned against the wall, but planted his feet slightly apart in front of him on the dirt floor, and drew her to stand between his legs, closer to him. "I'm crazy about you, Teyla. I have been from moment one." _There. I said it._

He pulled her in just slightly closer, but the only physical contact he maintained with her was his hands on her waist. And for him it was more than enough—the feel of the satin skin below her abbreviated shirt, the curves of her hipbones under his hands—it made him positively giddy. Of course he wanted more, but he wanted her to feel in control. Now that he understood her formerly erratic behavior, he wanted her to feel safe and in charge... that she could reach for whatever she wanted without feeling he expected or demanded it.

That thrill of warmth washed over her again, and Teyla breathed in deeply, savoring it. The light of the desert planet's three moons was bright enough for him to see the smile of anticipation on her face and for her to see the way his eyes roamed her frame, more with worship than with lust.

Teyla reached out and placed her hand at the side of his neck, caressing the thick muscle there, then slid her hand down his shoulder under his collar. He had been wearing his uniform jacket over his t-shirt to keep out the chill that descended quickly on the desert planet every evening. She slid the jacket from his shoulders, forcing him to remove his hands from her waist in order to extricate his arms from the sleeves, letting the shirt drop to the floor.

Before he could replace his hands on her hips, she stepped in closer, farther between his legs to his pelvis, pressing against him. But this was different than the rough nature of her previous seduction: she did it slowly this time so he could savor it, beginning by pressing her pelvis to his groin, then her lower abdomen to his own taut stomach, then her narrow rib cage to his muscled torso leant against the wall, then her soft breasts to his toned chest, all the while keeping eye contact, watching him to make sure he understood that this time she meant it as a gesture of enticement, not demand.

Once her breasts had flattened to his chest, she leaned in to his mouth, wordlessly requesting a repeat of that kiss that had angered her so much before; the one with which he had tried to romance her. John understood immediately, and placing his hands at the small of her back, gave again the slow exploration of her mouth, captivating her lips and emotions in the same moment.

They were both awash on a tide of deep relief and ramped-up elation. As he softly kissed her, he slid his hands up from her waist into her hair. She'd left it hanging loose this evening, and in the few extra moments the workers had been given to clean up before the festivities, she had somehow managed to make it clean and sweet-smelling like honey. This was one thing he loved about her—her intrinsic femininity contrasted with her strong, toned body. He ran his hands up through her long hair, glorying in finally having permission to touch the red-gold strands he'd stood close to for so many years, never quite admitting to himself that he was trying to inhale the delicious scent emanating from her waves of hair.

Teyla's arms were back around John's shoulders as he caressed her hair, and she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. She ran her hands down both of his arms and allowed herself to grasp and massage the strong muscles she'd spent years admiring from afar. She was amazed by the contrast between man and woman... she knew that she was strong and could defend herself against almost any man, but her body was so different than this... his biceps were so hard, dense, so elementally different than her own body and she was enthralled. Of course she could tell how much her fascination pleased John because she saw the smug look on his face and felt him flex his arms in response to her touch.

The contrast between his masculinity and her womanhood was suddenly all the eroticism she needed. Now that she knew that the gentle seduction he had attempted earlier had been genuine, she was so aroused that she wanted to throw herself into this gulf of hunger between them. She rested her forehead against John's and slid her hand down from his biceps, down his muscled ribs, down his tight stomach, over the front of his uniform pants and over the rigid arousal she found there. She ran her hand over his straining member, palm flat, down his groin, then back up again to the tip of his erection pressed between the waistband of his pants and his belly, where she stilled her hand. John let out a stunned gasp, his whole body tense, but she looked him in the eye, assuring them this was not the headlong, reckless assault of before. This was a gentle but firm caress to let him know how very much she wanted him. He had stilled all other movement and his face was so tense and his eyes burned so hot that she almost relented, but she wanted him to know, _know_, that she wanted him this way, had always wanted him this way. So once again she ran her hand down his hardened ridge, palm still flat, but this time running her thumb along the edge, stroking down further until she reached his sac and slowly cupped him in her hand.

John was motionless for another moment, breathing hard. This was the Teyla he had wanted to make love to—not the forceful, abrupt woman she'd been when she believed he was drunk on talik. This Teyla was slow and purposeful and warm, and it was everything he wanted. He slid his hands down her body to grip her beneath her buttocks, lifting her body and crossing the room with her in his arms before she had time to catch her breath. He set her to stand on the floor in front of the narrow cot at the corner of the room, looking down at her with an expression of mixed excitement and relief.

"I hope you know what you're doing to me," he said, his voice rough with desire. He raised her gently to sit on the cot, which was really more of a thin mattress atop a platform, elevated several feet to allow the cooler night breezes to blow underneath it. John didn't give her a chance to answer before he rested on one knee, reaching to untie her boots and remove her socks from her feet that dangled over the side of the bed. He shifted slightly to discard his own footwear, then stood again, and turning her to the side, pushed her to lie down on the cot, flat on her back, with his arm underneath her torso. He situated himself beside her on the narrow mattress, balanced next to her, and turned to look her full in the face.

"Is this okay?" he managed in a tight whisper, "Because this is what happens when you touch me like that."

"I had hopes for nothing less." She smiled languorously at him, her face an open flame of desire and affection.

What could almost be called a grin flitted across his mouth, then his expression again grew serious and she saw that he meant to make love to her with an intensity she had always longed for. She did not care that they were squished together on a tiny cot in a dirt-floor cell; she did not care that they were farm slaves on some deserted planet; what she knew was this man was consumed with her and she every bit as famished for him.


	6. Chapter 5

They turned to each other and their eagerness was palpable. She reached for his face, laying her hand along the strong line of his jaw to feel his muscles moving as he tenderly explored her lips. She allowed him to press into her mouth again with soft kisses, then he thirstily pushed further in, using his tongue to caress her own, intimating what waited for her in other areas of her body.

John felt Teyla take what he thought was a deep steadying breath, but when it was followed by another and another, he realized that she was breathing heavily because she was so aroused. The prospect of fulfilling her craving whet his own appetite and his body burned for her. When he had lain down next to her, he had placed one arm under her, and he now moved his hand up her rib cage to caress her breast with the palm of his hand. He slid his hand back and forth over her breast, allowing only the very tip of her straining nipple to come in contact with his palm through the thin material of her t-shirt. She arched into him, murmuring her pleasure.

He used his free hand to repeat the motion on her other breast, but only for a few moments, as he then slid it down her torso, over her bare, silky stomach to the top of her shorts. He could tell she was still entranced with the game he was playing by grazing his palm over her taut nipple. Sliding his hand under her waistband, over her soft mound, he cupped his hand around her womanhood. Through her panties he could feel that she was already so warm and wet that he had to take a few steadying breaths of his own... his erection was pressed into her thigh, but he wanted to bring her to her own pleasure before he even thought about releasing himself from the uncomfortable confines of his pants. He did press against her thigh slightly harder, though, just to remind her how she was making him feel.

He pulled his hand back a little higher up so he could push his hand under the waistband of her panties and slid just one finger down the warm slit of her folds, along the curve of her. She was so wet that he knew he could have unzipped his fly and plunged into her right then, and... _patience, man, patience_. He used his index finger to draw circles around her wet opening, and grinned when her murmurs turned into moans. She pushed herself against his questing finger, and sighed his name. "John..."

He smothered her sigh with a kiss, still using the palm of his other hand to tease her breast, then focused on pushing the finger of his right hand deeper in to her, curving it upwards and finally into her. He glanced up to see her eyes snap open, staring at him and this time she moaned his name less as encouragement and more as plea.

"_John!"_

She turned her face fully to his, pulling his lower lip into her mouth and groaning into his mouth. He finally ceased his teasing of her nipple, slid his hand under her shirt, and began to massage and squeeze her entire breast in earnest. Her hips bucked when he added one more finger inside her and curled both fingers up into her.

Teyla was gasping for breath, shaking on a whirlwind of sensation, trying to prolong this incredible deluge of arousal from the man she desired so much. From the moment he had sneaked his hand around her rib cage and begun to tease her nipple, she knew that it would not take long for her to reach full arousal, but she had not expected those few short minutes to be packed with so much sensation. She felt the climax begin to swell at the top of her pelvic bone, a wave of release sweeter than anything she had experienced. The wave crept further down her lower belly until it reached the heel of John's hand, resting over her sensitive nub, then the wave moved farther down to the astounding things his fingers were doing at her very core. When the wave broke, her hips jerked against his hand and his name flew from her mouth and she continued to shudder against his steadying hand, over and over, letting the sweetness engulf her entire body as she cried his name and whimpered again and again, turning her face into his throat and gasping out her orgasm.

Needless to say, Teyla's verbal and physical response had John reeling. She was so tight that he had a hard time pulling his fingers from her, and he had the urge just to jerk down the top of her pants right then, rip open his fly, and plunge into her. But he wanted more... he wanted to feel her skin against his own, wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, wanted to join together in more than just lust.

He waited until her panting had subsided somewhat, then asked her if she could stand up. She looked at him, her face flushed and eyes glazed, but grinning. "Yes, I believe I could manage that," she responded breathlessly.

He rolled from his side to stand next to the cot, pulling her to a sitting position, raising her to stand, his hands at her waist. He slowly began to undress her, beginning with her thin t-shirt, pulling it over her head, maintaining eye contact as he slid his hands back down the inside of her raised arms, down and across her breasts. She watched him and sighed as he continued down her belly, reaching her uniform shorts, submissively waiting as he unbuttoned and pulled them down, leaving her in only her panties. He removed those too by grasping them at the sides and slowly, oh-so-slowly, running his hands along her rounded backside and down her smooth legs until the scrap of fabric hit the floor. "I'm not sure you know how gorgeous you really are," he leaned into to whisper to her. "With clothes or without them," he added with a lopsided grin.

John's senses were sizzling at the sight of an already-satiated Teyla standing in front of him: she was completely naked, he was still clothed. It assuaged his years-long anxiety: that she didn't truly want him. That if at any point over the years, had he made a move, she would have chewed him up, spit him out, and left his heart a mangled mess. Her willingness to be so vulnerable, to be so obviously ready for more while he had yet to even remove his clothes, fulfilled in him a longing for a reciprocity that he'd never acknowledged to himself.

Teyla now stood before him, confident in her bare body, and looked up into his face, eager to see his reaction to her nudity. She was not disappointed—John's expression sent a jolt through her. He looked down at her with lust so strong she could feel it weighing them both down. But there was also yearning in his face, a modicum of self-control, a dash of awe that was more than a little flattering, a measure of anticipation, and what stirred her most: a deep affection. That look in his eyes was all it took to bring her back to the present moment, returning from the fog of her climax—she now saw his full desire for her and it made her want to return the pleasure he had just lavished upon her... only she wanted them to share it, revel in it together, create a new pleasure that would make the first course seem merely an appetizer.


	7. Chapter 6

Teyla began by reaching for his worn t-shirt, lifting the bottom hem, but did not get very far. The short hair that formed a trail from his navel to his lower abdominals was fuzzy under her fingertips and distracted her. She had only ever caught rare glimpses of him with his shirt off, and she began running her hands over and over his belly, enjoying the feel of hair over his lean muscles.

"Watcha doing?" John inquired with the lift of one eyebrow, but in the half-light she could see that he was smiling at her fascination with his "happy trail."

"I simply like it. I have always thought it is..." she searched for the right word, but she was not sure how he would feel about the truthful one. "I think it is _cute_." She looked up at him to gauge his response, and saw him tilt his head back to grin. His hands tightened around her hips, pulling her closer and pressing her against the bulge in his pants.

" 'Cute'? I don't think I'll ever understand women, but if you think it's cute, then far be it from me to object," he grinned down at her.

"Good." She smiled at him and regained her focus, lifting his t-shirt over his head. He raised his arms in the air to help her, and now she reciprocated his earlier movements—running her hands down the insides of his arms, reveling in the feel of skin over toned muscle. She reached his chest and removed his dog tags, dropping them inside one of his boots on the ground. Running her hands through the hair at his chest, she became distracted again by the feel of it and sighed with pleasure.

"And is that cute, too?" She heard him tease her in a low voice.

"No, this is _manly_." She smiled up at him, her hands encircling and caressing his pectoral muscles. She saw the smugly satisfied look on his face, and shifted her hands again to his biceps, which had earlier stirred her so deeply. She felt him flex them again and she looked up at him, laughing aloud at his obvious pride in them.

"What?" he protested with a defensive air. "You seemed to like them pretty well earlier," he insisted.

"I _do_ like them. I am fascinated by the contrast between your body and my own," she said, surprised by the arousal that flooded through her again when this time he flexed his arms to lift her entire body so she sat on the cot in front of him, her feet dangling.

"Tell me more about 'fascinated,' " he breathed in her ear, his chest grazing her naked breasts as he leaned in close.

"You are so solid and muscled. And I know that I am capable of defending myself against almost anyone in a fair fight, but your body is harder and more angled than mine." She spoke in a low voice, but her hands were busy while she unbuttoned his waistband, allowing his shorts to drop to the ground and running her hands up the back of his thighs. "And you have muscles where I have only curves." John closed his eyes tightly, and she could tell that her soft voice, letting him know just where and why he attracted her, aroused him intensely. She slid her hands around to his lower back, under the waistband of his boxers, her nails just barely grazing his backside as she pushed his underwear to the floor.

And now he too was totally naked. Teyla looked up at him from her sitting position on the edge of the cot; John still standing between her slightly spread legs, his hands on her naked hips. "John, you make me melt with yearning for you. You always have," she whispered in a voice so low he had to bring his ear to her mouth to catch the words. Teyla's strategy worked, because she could now pull the ear lobe that was so close into her waiting mouth and lick along the edge of his ear, tasting the salt of his skin and inhaling the hunger of his desire. She could also feel the brush of his straining erection against the inside of her thigh and it made her crave more than just this hint of his manhood.

_Totally, utterly whipped, _he thought. John realized that Teyla's slow seduction had left him trembling with arousal and completely at her mercy. Not that he minded. For too long, his days had been peppered with starved, desperately controlled fantasies of Teyla; his nights had been filled with scorching, spiced dreams of her, but his imagination had never included such an enthusiastic response from her, or the freedom he now felt to make love to her as he'd always wanted. But the idea of freedom brought him up sharply with one thought.

"Teyla, what about... protection?" He realized it was a question he should have asked much earlier and he leaned back with worry on his face.

Teyla smiled at his concern. "Dr. Beckett gave me what he called an IUD several months ago. All of the women on the base are given them. And you and I both get checked in the infirmary frequently enough that I think we will be fine," she said, and he seemed reassured.

They reached for each other, Teyla's arms around his solid shoulders, his hands spanning her narrow ribs, and kissed each other with the passion they'd never dared. Their kiss was ripe and melting, full of hunger and sweetness and the quenching of a need repressed for too long. He slid his mouth from her lips and down her throat, down to her breast where he pulled her velvety nipple into his mouth, making her gasp. She slid her bottom inches forward onto the very edge of the cot, wordlessly begging him to fill her need, to push his heavy erection into her waiting desire. His breath caught audibly as the tip of his arousal came into contact with the moisture of her opening, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, fighting for control. He wanted her so much, and her softness and wetness and silkiness and desire made him want to consume her in seconds. But he wanted this to last for more than a few moments so she could enjoy it too, so he gulped in a breath of night air, tilted his head back, and steadied himself for a moment. Finally he lowered his face, pressed his mouth into hers, gently biting her lips, savoring the hot sensation of them, and pushed himself deeply inside her.

John pressed past her quivering thighs, between her burning folds, toward her waiting opening, finally to the moment of pure joining, when their bodies pressed as tightly as they could, and they joined as one. His arms lowered to encircle her waist, her hands slid to his backside. She turned her face and laid her cheek against his chest, and they moved together as famished lovers, whispering words of affection and arousal and longing to each other, saying all the words of craving and desire they'd held in for so long. Her lower legs came up around his waist as he stood in front of her, and she pulled him farther into her than he thought possible, and she clung to him, whispering his name and murmuring with urgency her need for his touch, for his possession of her. He moved inside her, thrusting against her, willing her to release, holding back nothing from her. He tucked her head, still pressed against his chest, under his chin and rested it against her soft hair. His hands roamed her body, reveling in the soft feel of her arms, running them down her back and sides, massaging her buttocks, sliding his hands up and down her thighs. She too ran her hands across his body, taking in the leanness of him, the toned muscle and tensed longing, squeezing his upper arms and reaching up to grasp his strong neck, begging him to let go for her, to release his tightly coiled hunger. They both felt the moment the scorching joining turned to a seething, almost unbearable ache, and they thrust themselves against each other, gasping to each other and willing the other to fulfillment. Their climax broke together, and they moved in harmony, grinding and arching against each other, desperate to fulfill, to satisfy, to burn out their hunger together. They clutched each other and cried out their satisfaction together, the side of John's rough jaw pressed to the smooth curve of Teyla's cheek, panting in each others' ears until the ripples of pleasure ebbed, and their bodies cooled and they were left clinging together as fully satiated lovers.

Teyla sat a moment, resting her cheek against John's, breathing heavily and feeling his rapid heartbeat beat through his chest into hers. Eventually he reached down and pulled her legs over the side of the bed and swung onto the mattress next to her, both of them lying on their side, arms around each other. She was dimly aware of him caressing her hair, running his hand up and down her arm, the movements becoming slower and more languid as they both drifted into sleep.

She didn't know how much later she awoke to the jingle of dog tags, but she saw John sitting in the semi-darkness on the edge of the bed in just his shorts, pulling on his boots. She reached over to lay her hand on his thigh to let him know she was awake.

"I thought I'd head over to my room and get cleaned up before sunrise. We slept for a long time," he said in a low voice, reaching down to kiss her on the cheekbone. He then slid his lips across to her mouth for a sleepy, full-lipped kiss and she could sense his hesitation as he bent over her. He seemed torn, then finally straightened with resolve and a slight grin and whispered, "I'll see you at breakfast."

"I will see you then." Teyla gave him smile and a sleepy laugh—she could tell he wanted to stay, even though there wasn't enough time for what he wanted before they were summoned for the work day. She squeezed his thigh where her hand still rested as he stood from the bed and watched as he walked away pulling on his t-shirt, and her eyes slowly drooped closed as she waited for the sunrise call signaling the beginning of the work day.


	8. Chapter 7

They'd been working in the fields for less than an hour when John made his way over to Teyla. Usually he waited much longer before taking a water break, but he was a little distracted this morning, so he brushed through the stalks of corn over to where she was kneeling, pulling weeds from the desiccated ground. He started to say something about the morning dragging by, but was mesmerized by the sight of her backside as she crouched in the dirt. He'd thought that making love with her just last night would have relieved the perpetual lust he felt for her, but if this morning was any indication, what they'd shared last night made him only want her more.

"John, was there something you needed?" Teyla questioned him, but didn't turn or rise from her kneeling position. Her tone of voice was teasing, and knew he'd been caught ogling. But he didn't care. Last night had freed some deeply-held restraint in him, and he wasn't embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Just came over for the view. That's all." He teased back, and she laughed and finally stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees as she turned to him. She lifted up to look at him full in the face, and she nearly took his breath away with her loveliness. Her slightly curling hair was pinned at the top of her head, and the way she stood with her weight shifted on one hip and that unguarded smile that he knew was just for him made him a little weak in the knees. But she interrupted his reverie.

"I will not tolerate any man leering at me in that way. I am perfectly capable of making such a man regret his crude manners," she said tartly, one eyebrow raised, but with a hint of a smile at the corner of her pretty lips.

"Well, I was kinda hoping I wasn't just _any_ man." He squinted a little at her in the already blazing sun, a mix of humility and confidence arranged on his face.

She suddenly dropped her joking demeanor, and although she did not touch him, she stepped closer to him and in a low voice conceded, "You are not just any man." She gazed directly into his eyes, hoping he saw what she intended: a confident woman affirming that he was _hers_, that she _wanted_ him to look at her that way. After last night she was done with games. She was resolved to let him know precisely how she felt for him. She had enough of a sense of humor to admit to herself that her new-found confidence had less to do with her warrior spirit finally asserting itself and more to do with John's own profession of affection for her and the look of adoration in his eyes as he tenderly kissed her last night. She flushed at the memory of it, and wished she could reach out and touch his dirt-stained hand with her own. But they were both intensely private people, and on an alien world in a captive situation, she did not want to draw unnecessary attention.

John saw the emotions playing over Teyla's face and his heart swelled with happiness at her open affection. To the casual observer they were having a normal discussion, but he knew Teyla. And he knew that she was showing a depth of affection for him that surpassed anything he'd ever seen her express—to anyone. "Should we just go ahead and take that water break early?" he questioned softly. He gazed down at her, communicating his own passion wordlessly as well, knowing that she too would see the warmth in his eyes, hear his emotion in the words he didn't say.

"Yes," she answered simply, smiling up at him, and he knew she understood. As they walked to the well, she moved a little closer and commented in a lower voice, "I want to move the extra cot from the adjoining quarters into my own room. Would you help me at the siesta?" She had picked up the word from John; it was what he called the afternoon break all the slaves were allowed during the hottest part of the day. Typically it was spent in one's quarters, snoozing under the loosely-slatted roof and the gaunt shade trees that funneled a slight breeze through the laborers' compound.

John ducked his head to hide his grin and replied in his own low-pitched tone, "If you're asking what I think you're asking, then, Hell yeah, I'll help you." He glanced up and wondered if he could urge the sun any faster through the sky by sheer force of will.


	9. Chapter 8

What to John seemed like days later, they finally lay facing each other on the cots they'd pushed together in the middle of Teyla's room. A light breeze blew through the partly shadowed room, making it comfortable enough to rest without sweating profusely, unlike if they'd been laboring out in the fields, likely suffering from heat exhaustion. The days were extremely long on the this desert planet, so the few hours of respite the workers got from the sun were more than made up for with a long second shift that ended just before twilight.

For the past days, John had typically filled the siesta hours hatching half-baked plots of escape and trying not to count exactly how many rooms over Teyla's quarters were... and what she was doing. And what she was wearing. Or not wearing. But here he was, lying just a foot from her, both of them relaxing on the narrow cots they'd pushed together, and he didn't have to wonder what she was doing. She was resting on her back, barefoot, head laid close to the end of the cot so her long hair hung over the edge, swaying gently in the breeze. One hand rested over her midsection, the other absently played with one strand of hair.

He wanted to devour her right then and there. Consume her like a decadent dessert and leave her panting and begging for more. But after last night's intensity, he didn't want to push her too fast, so he lay on the cot next to hers, trying to breathe deeply and distract himself by staring up at the shadows of the leaves playing over the slatted roof. He'd removed his boots and socks too, but of course his feet hung over the edge of the bed, as he was quite a bit taller than the average slave. He looked over at Teyla again, and found that she'd turned on her side, facing him with an attentive stare through lowered eyelashes.

"Are you planning to rest?" she inquired politely, but he thought he detected a hint of more than just polite interest in her tone

John flipped on his side to face her as well. "Well, I was hoping that the whole 'will-you-help-me-move-an-extra-cot-in-my-room' ploy wasn't just so we could take naps," he grinned over at her.

She laughed at his forthrightness and reached over the seam between the mattresses and grasped his wrist. "I am not sleepy," she whispered, sliding her hand up his muscled forearm. "I was hoping to hear more about what you said last night... how you feel even on the other side of the room."

For a moment he didn't catch her reference, then with a slight flush he remembered his defensive words during their heated argument, "_You always make me feel this way, whether you're grinding up against me or on the other side of the room."_

Ah. This was familiar territory. In John's experience, a woman always wanted to know what it was about her in particular that had attracted him to her. And he was happy to oblige Teyla... especially if he got the opportunity to show instead of tell.

"Well, seeing as I'm usually on the other side of the room, there's a lot to tell," he lowered his voice, moving his face closer to hers in the sun-dappled room. "Where should I start?"

The look of pleasure and anticipation on Teyla's face was a reward for John. But when she responded with a demure smile, "Perhaps we should take turns telling the other what it was that made us feel that way, even from across the room," his stomach did a slow flip-flop of excitement. It was something he was starting to appreciate about Teyla: her willingness to reciprocate. Not only was she willing take turns, she was flat-out admitting that he turned her on. Whatever half-restrained arousal he'd been harboring until that moment went full-on, and John was glad he was already lying on his side, which made the tightness in his pants at least a little more comfortable."

"Ladies first."

Teyla narrowed her eyes at the sudden reversal of order, but smiled and played along. "I shall begin at the very beginning," she said in a soft voice, "In the tent on Old Athos." She could see that he was gazing down at her cleavage, her breasts pressed together as she lay on her side, facing him in the warm room, and she felt a thrill of arousal move down her belly. She moved her hand up from its grasp on his forearm and ran her fingers through his spiky hair. "Of course the first thing I noticed about you was your unruly hair." She slid her hand across his scalp, just barely touching the skin with her nails, and she saw goosebumps rise on his arm.

John closed his eyes and felt his heartbeat rush into his groin. He'd had no idea she would cook up a little game like this for their siesta, and wondered if she'd been planning all day, out in the heat. He was more than happy to play along and he loved the slow, seductive pace she was setting. "The hair always gets the ladies," he said smugly, but his voice was rough, letting her know that he was affected by her opening advances.

She nodded and made no reply except, "I believe it is your turn."

"The very beginning, eh?" He pondered. "I suppose that would be your hair as well. It made you look like a warrior princess and I was pretty in awe of you." He reached across and touched her hair, the heat and humidity of perspiring in the fields having made it as wavy now as it had been that first day he met her. He pulled one long lock through his fingers gently, admiring the red-gold color and lifting it to his nose to inhale the sweet scent. "How does it always smell this good? I mean, _always_?" He asked in a bewildered tone.

She smiled widely at him, showing her white teeth, but didn't answer the question. "My turn." She shifted slightly on the mattress, draping one leg over the other to rest her foot on his ankle. She knew the position accentuated her small waist and the swell of her hip, and she watched John's appreciative eyes travel down the length of her, and she realized that she could feel her own pulse beating in her pelvis. "Next I noticed your strong jaw," she declared, trying to keep her voice even. She slid her hand from his hair to his face, tracing the line of it down one side, around his chin, and up the other side. "You have a rugged face. Very strong. Very male." Teyla was never this verbose or flattering with a man, but with John it was different—she knew John so deeply and she had quite a bit she wanted to say to him.

John was already scrambling to keep up in their little game. The feel of her foot on his ankle combined with her flattering words was making it hard for him to focus. He was very distracted by the idea that she was going to continue this—giving him these gifts of words that he never expected from her, especially not all at once. But it was also something he realized that he craved deeply... he was desperate to know what she thought of him, had always thought of him. It soothed the nagging pain of years, always at the back of his mind—that she didn't think much of him, if she even thought of him at all. But he trusted her enough, after years of experience, to let go and just enjoy what he'd always wanted—her open admiration, if she was willing to give it.

"A manly face, eh?" He laid his hand over hers where she was still caressing his jaw. "That's a good boost for the ego," he said with a wry grin. She smiled over at him, happy that he was happy.

"It is your turn," she reminded him.

He smiled and reached over to run one finger along her lower lip. "I have always loved your lips. They're very—" he struggled for the right words. He wanted her to feel cherished and desired by even just his words, but he'd never been a real chatty guy, so he searched hard for just the right words. "They're very feminine. And soft. And I always wanted to kiss them." He traced his finger higher to her upper lip, barely grazing the soft skin.

Teyla smiled under his finger and moved her hand down from where she had been stroking his jaw, and placed her own thumb on John's lower lip. "I too have enjoyed your lips. They are very sensual." The feel of John's finger on her lips was somehow so titillating that she found her breath speeding up_. _John smiled over appreciatively at her too, and for a beat they just gazed at each other.

"My turn again," he said finally. Although the room was cooler than outside, it was still pretty warm in here and he could feel the spots of sunshine that shifted and moved over them heating up. He pretended to consider his next answer for a moment, but he knew where he was headed next; truthfully, it was the first thing that he'd noticed about her all those years ago. He reached across the small space between them, and with one finger traced along the edge of the t-shirt that lay across her exposed stomach. "This," he said quietly, looking into her eyes and holding her gaze. "Definitely this." Teyla turned and lay flat on her back so he had access to her lean tummy, and John scooted down on the bed so his face was level with her bellybutton and ran his hand across the lean muscles of her breathtaking curves, then gripped the side of her waist. He looked up at her. "I noticed this first thing, first day."

"I know," she smiled down at him. "I was not totally oblivious," she said, grinning even wider. "But why does my stomach fascinate you so? Most Athosian women show their midsection in typical daily dress and our men do not take as much notice of it as it seems the men of your world do."

John felt a flare of jealousy in his throat at the thought of other men—men under his command!—taking notice of Teyla's curves. Then he reminded himself that _he_ was the one bending his face even closer to her stomach, running his hands over her, marveling at the definition under the silky smooth skin. He pondered a moment before answering. "I guess because in my culture it's not shown in everyday situations. And because yours is so damn perfect. And kissable." He demonstrated, kissing her once on the side of her navel, looking up at her. She moved her hand to rest on his hand at her waist, and he marked a line of kisses all along the waistband of her shorts. "It's just mesmerizing," he muttered, almost to himself. "It's strong and curvy and soft and..." he couldn't finish his own thought because he'd succumbed to the impulse to trace his tongue back along the line of her shorts and up to her bellybutton—she tasted salty and sweet and warm, just like he'd imagined. He smiled when he heard her gasp at the sensation of his tongue on her skin. He raised his head and made a very serious face, lowering his eyebrows. "You know, it _is_ getting warmer in here... you might want to remove some of this excess clothing or you could get serious heat stroke."

Teyla laughed. _I can never resist his teasing. And I hope he never figures that out._ The sun was getting closer to its zenith, and the room _was_ warm, warm enough to make any extra clothing uncomfortable. "Very well," she said with one raised eyebrow, reaching down to the sides of her makeshift shorts and working them down her hips. They were loose enough on her that she could remove them without unbuttoning them, and she made sure she wriggled her hips back and forth quite a bit as she slid them down, just for John's benefit. She could see John's cheeks had gotten a little more flushed and that a vein on his temple was standing out now.

Teyla dropped the shorts on the floor and sat up, now wearing just her abbreviated shirt and her panties. "It is now my turn. And you too must remove 'excess clothing' so I can tell you what I noticed next and so you do not get heat stroke," she said. "Take off your shirt and lie back on the bed," she commanded.

"Yes, ma'am." He tried to keep a straight face, but Teyla could tell he wanted to grin at being ordered around like a soldier.

She smiled at his excitement and helped him pull his t-shirt over his head, then pushed him down on the mattress. She scooted closer to him, leaning above him, and placed her hands on his chest. "This. I noticed your strong chest." She ran her hands over his lean, flat muscles, glorying in the wide expanse of muscle that was so very male. "Your wide shoulders and your narrow waist and your pectoral muscles have always been very attractive to me," she murmured as she leaned even farther forward, her hands sliding up to his shoulders.

"I lost count, but I'm pretty sure that's more than one thing," he choked out. His voice was low and strained, probably due to the fact that her leaning above him had brought her hip and leg to rest on top of one side of his body.

"Well, let me be more precise," she said saucily, and moved quickly to swing her leg over him, settling herself to sit on top of his him, her knees bent and resting on either side of his body. "I noticed your _torso_. Is that precise enough?" She questioned, eyebrows raised. She could feel the heat and pressure of his erection on her backside through her thin panties and she thought the tightness building inside might melt her.

"Um, yeah, that's precisely what I wanted," he gasped, trying to smirk, but failing and grinning instead. The game was accelerating along with the heat of the afternoon, and the warmth of the small room was like an oven. They weren't quite sweating yet, as the air was very dry and there was still a slight breeze through the slatted roof, but they were both panting with arousal in the close room.

"It is your turn," Teyla sighed, still running her hands over John's chest, occasionally sliding them down his stomach and back up to his shoulders.

"Right. My turn, my turn." John mumbled, trying to focus. The sight of Teyla straddling him was something out of numerous guilty, lust-fueled dreams and it made him remember many sleepless nights, so he took a deep breath and tried to cool his pulse a little.

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a guy if I hadn't noticed these pretty early on," he said softly and smiled, reaching up and placing both hands on her breasts, over the fabric of her t-shirt. She leaned into his hands as he caressed her, cradling both breasts from the sides and stroking her nipples with his thumbs.

Teyla tried to let out a pleased sigh but it came out as a moan. The feeling of his big hands at once embracing and teasing her was electrifying. No man by just his gentle touch and soft words had ever aroused her so much. She could not help it—she ground herself down onto him. She wished she could touch and tease him more, but found that her body was ready for more from him.

"John, I cannot take this anymore," she breathed. "No more turns. I want you so much." She was surprised by her own forwardness, but the heat of the room and the heat of his touch made her feel starved for him and she had stopped caring about anything but making John understand how much she wanted him.


	10. Chapter 9

John had been trying desperately to draw out the game, wanting to keep it going as long as possible for her, but he'd definitely been struggling to control the lust that surged through him. At Teyla's panting words, John's pulse exploded. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, turning her body, hands on her hips, lifting her with him until they both stood at his side of the bed, facing each other.

He leaned in close to her, locking eyes. "Teyla, you don't have to ask twice," he said in a low voice. He tugged at her shirt, pulling it over her head, throwing it to the floor. He reached down to unbuckle his belt, hardly able to complete the simple task because he had to watch her shimmy out of her panties, letting them drop to the floor. He managed to get his belt loosened, and she was already helping him remove his clothing. As soon as shorts and boxers hit the floor, he stepped out of them and reached for her, drawing her naked body to his, roughly pulling her hips into his so she could feel his hardness and know how much she affected him.

He leant down and they kissed, a searing kiss that left them breathless and panting, pressed close together, a glaze of sweat forming between their heated bodies. He moved to help her lie back on the bed, but she resisted. Instead she turned to stand facing the bed, reaching behind her to place her hands on his hips and pull him close to her, so that his pulsing erection was now pushed firmly up against her backside.

John narrowly avoided letting his jaw drop open. _Does she want what I think she wants?_ "Are you sure about this, Teyla?" He wanted to be gentle with Teyla; to let her know how much he cared about her and that she meant more to him than a fling on some deserted planet.

Her only answer was to lean over the bed and beg, "John, please." The elevation of the cot hit her at just the perfect angle, so that with her toes grazing the floor, her hips curved right at the edge of the bed, and the sight of her backside in front of him, bent over like that...

_Holy shit._ She really did want this. She wanted him to take her from behind. _That I can do. _The idea made his entire body throb with desire for her. He leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "Just let me know if it's too much."

She nodded. "I promise." He could hear her breathing heavily in anticipation and he didn't need any more incentive. He centered himself behind her, running his hands from her shoulders, down the length of her curving spine, reaching her buttocks and caressing them. One hand slid lower, down between her thighs, reaching for her womanhood and feeling that she was wet and more than ready for him. Gently he ran his hand along her folds, and then pressed two fingers inside her wet opening. She moaned and gyrated against him, panting his name.

"God, Teyla," he choked. The feel of her tightening around his fingers, the sight of her mouth-watering curves bent in front of him, and the realization that she wanted him like this made him feel lightheaded with arousal. He withdrew his fingers and grasped his erection, pressing the tip of it against her wet opening. She gasped as he pushed his thick arousal into her, slowly filling her, and the sensation was breathtaking for him, too. He pushed deeper, and they both moaned. He could see that she was gripping the side of the bed with both hands, knuckles white. He leaned down and whispered, "You okay?"

"I am more than okay, John. Please. More." she whimpered.

John considered pinching himself to see if this was one of those guilty dreams, but didn't want to take the time—he was too busy. Besides, who cared if it was a dream... it was a pretty good one.

He pulled slightly from her, then thrust back into her, both of them groaning at the sensation. He stilled for a moment, then felt her pushing her hips back against him, straining against him, and he could tell she was desperate for more. Leaning forward, he reached around her hips to her front and slid his fingers down to circle his fingers around her throbbing heart, all the while thrusting in and out of her. Her moans were getting louder and he was sure she was close, so he straightened behind her and thrust harder into her, placing his hands on either side of her hips for leverage. He thrust again, adding an upward grinding motion once he was fully inside her, and suddenly she burst into climax, pushing back against him and crying out. He continued to thrust against her, and the feel of her contracting inner muscles milked his own release from him. He pulled back out and thrust into her over and over, until they were both overcome with sheer, intense pressure, crying out, bucking against each other, grinding together to savor the wave of sweetness that swept through them both. He bent over her, arms folded around her waist, holding her to him, and she turned her head to press her face to his as they leaned over the bed, thrusting and shuddering out their orgasm against each other until they were thoroughly quenched.

John was the first to stir after a few moments, and maneuvered them both to lie on the bed, spooning her from behind. The room was still stifling, but the afternoon had passed its hottest point and was beginning to cool very slightly.

"John," Teyla said in a throaty whisper. "That was just what I wanted."

"Anytime, sweetie," he grinned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a close embrace despite the heat.

He suddenly stilled and the air in the room took on a different flavor. They were both silent for a moment, then—

"Did you just call me 'sweetie'?" Teyla asked quietly. She did not turn to look at him, but she could feel that he was holding his breath after realizing what he had just said.

John knew he was blushing. _Or whatever the manly version of blushing is_, he told himself. _Where the hell did that come from? _He'd never called Teyla by any nickname. For that matter, he'd never called any woman, whether friend or lover, by anything other than their title or given name. For a moment he panicked. But then he let out his breath. _So what?_ he thought. The word had come naturally enough. And yeah, he did feel that way about her. He'd never cared about anyone enough to use a term of endearment, but it had just spilled from his mouth and he wasn't going to freak out or eat his words.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he said slowly. "Is that okay with you?" He had leaned in close to her ear to ask, inhaling the delectable scent of her hair and warm skin. His throat tightened a little in anticipation, unsure of her response. Would she think he was being sentimental, sappy?

Teyla was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She was truly surprised by John's expression of affection, and her heart thrilled with emotion. _Sweetie_. It sounded warm and kind and happy. She knew what a private person he was, what walls he kept between himself and the people in his life, even his closest friends. That he had called her by a pet name, even if it was inadvertent, told Teyla more than speeches of adoration from any other man would.

"No, I do not mind," she said softly, turning in his arms to face him. "In fact, I like it very much." She smiled up at him and when he relaxed against her, she realized he had been tense, waiting for her response.

"Good," he smiled back. He ran his hands down her back, pulling her to him in a tighter embrace, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder. "Because it might slip out again sometime."


	11. Chapter 10

They had worked in companionable silence all through the late afternoon, happy to simply enjoy each other's company following their intense lovemaking. After a few hours, Teyla stepped back from her work and said thoughtfully, "There are a few things I neglected to mention earlier. Things that I noticed about you."

John's head snapped up from where he bent to his work on the ground. "Really?" Was she starting the game again? Out in the middle of the field? As spent as he was from their afternoon "nap," he could tell his body was actually considering responding with excitement.

She laughed, throwing her head back and showing all her white teeth. "Not like that," she snickered. "Things I noticed about you after I got to know you better. Things about who you are as a person," she explained, still grinning at his reaction.

"Oh. I knew that." He grinned a little foolishly at her, knowing she saw right through him.

"I did not tell you the things I have learned to admire most about you," she said slowly, as she bent to pour water around a plant. "And I want you to know them, just as much as I wanted you to know that I noticed your backside."

"Hey, there was no mention of my backside during naptime!" John protested, mock-serious expression on his face. "For the record, I appreciate your backside as well."

Teyla grinned over at him. "There are several things about your body that I have not yet covered. But that can wait for later," she said, raising one eyebrow meaningfully. She saw John's gulp at that and she laughed again.

"Definitely okay with that plan," John said tersely, pulling a serious face at her, but she could see that he was pleased that she had implied that there was going to be a "later."

She waited a moment, then said, "I have come to notice that you are a peacemaker."

John snorted derisively and gave his cynical laugh, the one that Teyla did not like. She turned on him quickly, irritated. "Why this reaction? I am speaking my truth to you," she frowned over at him.

"Teyla, I'm a soldier," he said. "And I like being a soldier. It's who I am. But I'm no peacemaker. I've taken and lost far too many lives for that to be a description for someone like me," he said, and she could hear a bitterness creep into his voice.

Teyla stopped her work and walked the few feet over to him, laying her hand on his arm. "You _are_ a peacemaker," she said firmly, holding his gaze. "You fight for peace. Some fight for anger, like Ronan. Many fight for fear. But you fight to make things right, to bring peace to those you protect. That is honorable, and something that I cherish most about you."

John was stunned into silence. No one had ever said such words to him. Only Teyla would look at him, a hardened soldier, and see a peacemaker. It both scared and thrilled him that she could see so deeply into him, past the things he wasn't even able to articulate himself. He cleared his throat and turned to face her, pressing his hand under her forearm where she still touched his own. He cleared his throat again a little roughly. "Thank you," he said. Those were all the words he could muster at the moment, but he let her know with his eyes what her words meant to him, and when she nodded in response, he saw that she understood how deeply she had affected him.

They worked through the long evening together, watering the plants, talking as never before. They spoke of their admiration for each other, about the things that friends naturally tell each other, but that they had held back from each other in shyness over the years. He told her how he valued her intense loyalty, her generosity, her talent for leadership. She spoke of his consistency, his gentleness, his intelligence. They shared the affectionate words that friends do, but now that they were lovers too, there was a depth of meaning far beyond friendship. They both sensed this, and knew their relationship was forever changed. Neither of them used the word _love_, but that is what their words meant and they both knew it.

The call for end to the night's work went out, and John was surprised by how quickly the hours had passed. He'd never known himself to talk so much, not just tonight; but in the last few days. He'd never been so open and vulnerable. But being with Teyla seemed to draw the words easily from him, and he felt no regret or shame of having exposed too much—instead he looked forward to future deep conversations shared between them. And he knew that in itself was life-changing for him.

As they walked through the long rows of grain in the evening light, he reached out to her with his hand. They came in from the fields together under the moons, their hands clasped and silent, full of contentment.

* * *

><p>"Colonel Sheppard. Good morning."<p>

John was awakened by what felt like blazing lights and a roar of voices. His military training kicked in and he quickly oriented himself, realizing he was on board the Daedalus. He understood they'd been beamed aboard from the planet's surface, and had a brief moment's gratitude that he and Teyla had both been sleeping fully clothed—for what clothes they were. He turned to see her beside him, adjusting to the new surroundings. John hoped the Daedalus crew couldn't distinguish sleeping arrangements from transponders.

"Colonel Caldwell. Nice to see you," he managed after clearing the sleep from his throat.

"You're welcome," Caldwell grinned sarcastically. "We would have been here sooner, but it took Rodney three days to get that junk heap of a ship turned around and back to Atlantis. We made it here in two days. Hoped to find you in good condition, but I have to say you look like crap, Sheppard."

"It was one of my better slave-labor vacations, thanks for asking," John said caustically.

"All right, both of you can head off to the infirmary and get checked out. We can do a de-briefing later," Caldwell said dismissively.

John and Teyla stepped from the front of the bridge to see Rodney and Ronan grinning at them. "Told you five days!" crowed Rodney triumphantly. "Caldwell doesn't know half of what I went through to get that ship home at all, but I did make it by the promised time, didn't I?" He rubbed his hands together, childishly waiting for his due gratitude.

"Yes, Rodney, you were right on time. Thank you," said Teyla, smiling at him, and they could all hear the fatigue in her voice.

"You guys look pretty rough," said Ronan. "What were you doing all that time?"

"Farming corn in the desert. That about sums up the five days," said John tersely, heading down the corridor toward the infirmary.

The group followed, and Rodney happily babbled, "I suppose you'll want to get cleaned up and all after you get checked out, but I _am_ getting hungry so maybe you could meet us at the mess right after that so we can exchange heroic stories?"

"Sounds good, Rodney," John grunted, and watched Ronan and Rodney head down the hall to the mess while he and Teyla veered toward the infirmary.

He desperately wanted a shower, but John waited patiently while they poked and prodded, drew blood and took scans. He'd already been doing a lot of thinking about how things were going to be when they got back to Atlantis. Clearly, Teyla would have to be transferred to a different team for the sake of regulations. He wasn't happy about it. _Guess you can't have your cake and eat it too. Not having her on my team will really suck, _he thought. But when he pondered having Teyla as teammate or Teyla as mate, he knew which was the better part of the bargain.

Finally the nurse finished and he hopped off the bed to see Teyla emerging from the other side of the room. Sneaking a look around, he saw that the staff had retreated to the lab, so he pulled Teyla behind a curtained-off partition. She came willingly with a grin, and as soon as they were out of sight, he drew her into a tight embrace, holding her to him and savoring the feeling of her warm body against his—he didn't know how often he'd be able to indulge in this, being now surrounded by people under his command. He pulled back slightly and bent down to press a gentle kiss to her lips, trying to memorize the way she felt in his arms.

"Guess we better head to the mess hall soon, huh?" he said in a low voice. "Think they have anything to eat that's not corn related?"

Teyla smiled up at him. "Actually, I heard a rumor that there is chocolate cake available."

"Sweet," he said, bending down for one more kiss.

FIN

Please Review! This is the 2nd fic I've ever written and I would love to hear some feedback. Thanks for the support from those of you who pm'd me. :)


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